Children
by SugarChukar
Summary: After a long shift at the infirmary, Dr. Iwamine is just glad for the day to be done. That's when Ryouta and Hiyoko stumble in...


_Warning: spoilers for the final ending herein contained._

* * *

Dr. Iwamine stared blankly at the patient before him.

Said patient was a kid who had made incomprehensible clothing choices: leather choker, cross necklace, and a large bloody bandage tied around his chest. The blood being obviously fake – real bodily fluids didn't take on such an unnatural pink. His long blue hair, fixed by gel so as to defy gravity, bounced as he stumbled towards the infirmary bed.

"My heaaad," Angel Higure groaned before collapsing sideways upon the bed, stretching his long limbs askew so as to take up as much space as possible, "Is exploooding!"

Shuu rolled his eyes, both metaphorically and actually. Irate that his work had, once more, been interrupted.

"Lemme go home, doc," the boy continued. "C'mon, please."

It was Higure's fourth visit of the month. At first, Shuu had bought the act, and sent the kid back with note after note. But more visits and complaints had followed, symptoms which the more Shuu had questioned, the less they'd made medical sense. And, as Shuu had learned from the noisy chatter in the staff room, through an unintended passage down the hall (the original intent having been to obtain a sample from archives), exam season had just befallen.

"Hmm." Shuu would humor the kid, just a little longer. "So we're feeling down today, aren't we?"

"Ugh, yeah, my head _kills_!" The statement was followed by a vigorous nod to the affirmative. The sound of the dried gelled hair scratching against the bed sheets served only to further irritate Shuu. If the sheets got dirtied, he'd have to change them – further distraction from any real work.

"I see." A glint came over Shuu's eyes, a mean and intimidating look that he has mastered over the years, with the goal of scaring the kids into obedience. "But I have no sympathy for naughty children – especially ones who do not take their classes seriously."

A flash of surprise came over the kid's eyes, cheeks reddening just a few subtle shades. But without missing a beat, Higure tossed out a carefree laugh. "C'mon, doc. Whatcha mean?"

In all honesty, Shuu couldn't care less about how Anghel lived up to his studently deeds. Whether the boy failed his classes, or complied with the moral demands of his education in a proper stringent manner, that did not concern Shuu.

What did concern him, however, was the waste of time incurred by the insolent kid's demands. And that displeased him greatly. He had been right in the middle of dissecting a most juicy sample – juicy quite literally, a frog infected by a modified virus that had caused quite the internal hemorrhage. Shuu's particular goal was to study the way that blood clotted in calculated, scientific terms – but the interesting display of disintegrating organs was not an unwelcomed side effect.

And Higure had to disrupt it all.

"Say," Shuu continued, casually raising his gloved hand, upon which blood from his experiment had not too long ago been sprayed. "It indeed appears to me you are most terribly sick. Why don't you try some of my… medicine?"

At this, Anghel balked, and his face went white. He'd heard the rumors. Never take any medication proffered by the infirmary. Unless, that is, Shuu was on leave, and it was the replacement nurse whom you were seeing. And then, there was the red stuff on the doctor's glove, still fresh…

"D-doctor, I'll be fine," the patient suddenly stammered. "Uh, lemme just lie down for a while, first…"

Shuu turned around, opening a cabinet to reveal neatly arranged trays of needles and vials. That clotting serum he was working on sure needed a test subject, and although the technology was of yet embryonic, he wouldn't be entirely closed to procuring early preliminary results.

"I have an experiment, see... And it would be quite kind of you to participate," Shuu mused, drifting into his scientific reveries with a faraway smile, absent-mindedly adjusting his glasses with the bloodied glove.

"A-all better now," the kid shot upright, with a nervous grin. "I'll g-get going n-now…"

Off the bed Anghel hopped, kicking on his shoes most expediently and making a beeline out the infirmary door.

* * *

Dr. Iwamine stopped to wipe his forehead, first instinctively and automatically with the back of his hand – then, more deliberately with a sterile alcohol swab. The dampness was cool against his skin, the fragrant chemical smell most refreshing. His back ached from the position that he had locked himself into above the dissection pan. Now, the pain re-entered his consciousness by degrees. Not that it mattered – not that any of it mattered in the larger scale of things, but these bodily limitations were sure a nuisance to his work.

And on the subject of nuisances – between Anghel Higure and the day's end, he'd had to entertain the disruption caused by a handful of further visitors. A sprained ankle. Multiple paper cuts. Another exam-shirker, whose demand had been even more transparent than Higure's. And the mathematics professor, Nanaki, who blundered in hoping to find extra chalk – and sympathy – having also lost his blackboard eraser.

Shuu had neither to offer.

His visitors, for the most part, learnt their lesson. If sympathy was what they wanted, Shuu Iwamine would not entertain them.

Tossing his gloves into the biohazard waste bin, Shuu glanced up at the clock. It pointed to a little after six-thirty. Normally, he worked overtime as long as he wished, which was usually late into midnight. As long as he kept up his infirmary duties adequately, St. Pigeonation's was more than glad to offer him his lab space. Having the Hawks' negotiation powers under his belt did help, too. Doling out check-ups to the kids was a formality, which he'd simply have to tolerate.

But today, he was tired. Presently, he leaned his bad side – the right – against the laboratory counter. Curse that physical flaw, that weakness, for its impediment on his work. The belly of the frog had earlier fallen apart quite literally in his hands; a slip of the wrist on his end had severed an important vessel in which he had hoped to deliver his experimental serum. On a technical level, he was no longer fit to proceed. Better close shop earlier, for the good of science.

His head, too, was hurting and spinning. Any other day, he might have been able to suppress it, that discomfort, and proceed to accomplish what he'd set out for himself for the night. But perhaps he'd been cutting back too steeply on sleep, as of late. Nutritional status might, too, have been substandard – he'd forgotten to pay attention to his dietary intake. And now, the chemicals in brain were going helter-skelter – surely the cause of such poor cognition tonight.

Such trivialities. Trivialities which, surely, a certain Kawara Ryuuji would have laughed over…

Dr. Iwamine removed his specimen, tray and all, from the dissection table. He placed it into the fridge, before packing it carefully with ice. Then, he closed off the lights of the laboratory, and locked the door that connected it to the infirmary. Upon the infirmary desk were strewn a few important documents – mostly encoded notes to himself regarding his research protocol. These, he filed into his suitcase. Outside, the sky had gotten dark already – a side effect of autumn slowly easing into wintertime.

He was just about to take off his lab coat, when the door to the infirmary flew open. In burst a patient he knew far too well – along with his companion, a certain Hiyoko.

"Doctor!" the loud, insolent girl barked at once. "Ryouta's throwing up again! What's going on?"

She had one arm around the kid: a pale, cowering little thing with scared red eyes, peeking through that protective arm. Her kept her other hand raised, in a fist.

_Half of him, _Shuu thought, as he felt his heart tremble. _Half of Kawara Ryuuji's genetic material. There. Before me._

"Dr. Iwamine! Answer me!"

To that, Shuu smiled. Whether to the girl, or rather some internal stimulus, was unclear.

"Ever since Ryouta began taking your pills, his symptoms have been getting worse, not better!"

In truth, Dr. Iwamine had long stopped listening. His mind was now in another time and place.

He remembered how Hiyoko had bounded in for the first time, utterly messing up the array of vials he'd so carelessly left on his desk. He'd found her sitting on his chair – _his chair!_ – precious vials snatched by dirty hands. And those bright curious eyes, that unending stream of "What's this, doc – what's this?"

He could have answered anything. "Get out," was what he decided to say.

He thought of the first time that he sat Ryouta down in the chair next to the infirmary – in order to inject the first iteration of the deadly viral isolate. The sad, trusting eyes and quivering, terrified lips. And such red eyes! Red, red forever. Half of Ryuuji Kawara.

He could have said something comforting. Something to the extent of: it might hurt now, but it's all for the better. But he only watched on, while the boy winced as the needle slipped into his skin.

"Dr. Iwamine!"

The girl's voice jolted him back into reality.

"A doctor's supposed to take care of their patients! What are you doing to Ryouta? Answer me!"

"Why do you care?" Dr. Iwamine suddenly shot back. Eyes narrowing, a burning expression rising within. It took the girl aback, causing her to flinch.

"What do you mean? Ryouta's my friend!" she exclaimed, something fiery in her own gaze. "And that's why I care."

"People. I just don't understand it. Fretting so much over others…" he only muttered in response. "It makes me… sick."

"Not my fault, if you've got no friends of your own!" the girl lashed out, sticking out her tongue and making a face.

"H-hiyoko, it really is okay," the boy stammered, as she let go of her arm's grip around him. "Dr. Iwamine might sound a little scary, but he's not too bad when you get to know him! I swear."

Scoffing audibly, Shuu motioned to the infirmary bed, the one whose covers he had just changed. "All right. Let your friend have a seat, and I'll examine him."

Obediently, Ryouta stepped towards Shuu, and sat on the bed.

Shuu stuck a thermometer in the boy's mouth, lay him down, and gave his stomach a few prods. All this and more, Ryouta endured most obediently, large red eyes staring back at the doctor. The Hiyoko girl stepped towards them both, watching carefully.

"Do it more gently!" she exclaimed.

"Hiyoko, it's really okay –"

As the boy spoke, his stomach muscles contracted, momentarily impending Shuu's examination. He could tell, however, that the ribs were more apparent than last time, indicating a noticeable loss of weight – side effects as per expected. Shuu felt too, under his fingers, a subtle but already noticeable swelling of the liver and spleen. All was proceeding as planned…

He lifted his hands, smiled in his rehearsed manner, and addressed the girl.

"The physical exam is entirely normal. He's not showing any temperature. I would not be concerned at all, if I were in your stead."

She shot him a dubious glare.

"A simple case of indigestion," Shuu continued. "Many students have been visiting me for emesis of late. Your friend is but another unfortunate case of the epidemic."

That Hiyoko looked back at him with fierce eyes. She had a determined expression, as though to challenge his bluff. It almost was charming to watch. But Shuu did not relent, and held up his smile with all of the ease in the world. Besides, the girl was entirely powerless. Even if she were to know what he was up to, the staff wouldn't believe her… And if things got to that point, the Hawks would be on his side. Ryouta would remain his specimen. The experiment would go on. The bioweapon, potent and unstoppable, would be soon unveiled… All for his singular goal.

Ryouta had already scampered to the door, pulling at his friend's sleeve for her to follow.

"See, Hiyoko?" the boy beamed. "It's okay. Don't worry. Dr. Iwamine is right… And – and I trust him."

"I'll be back," she only hissed.

He only smiled, and listened to a door slam shut – followed by the sound of footsteps, growing more and more soft and distant, until all that was left was silence.

* * *

Shuu locked himself in, closing all the lights. According to all external evidence, the infirmary was closed. Many a night he had spent here, continuing his experiments until dawn. But today, he was simply too tired to return to his usual living quarters. The latter was not his real home, either. The one place he ever felt at peace was here in the infirmary, and the laboratory that it was annexed to.

A heaviness began to fill his chest, at the solar plexus. Tiredness does such a number to the nervous system… One day he would have to do something about that, and invent a serum for the purpose.

But something about the duo's visit had perplexed him. Especially that girl's voice, so loud and piercing to his ears, still now ringing in his consciousness, disturbing fluidity of thought. Memories began to surge, despite himself.

"_Dr. Kawara… what's this?" _

_A shelf full of differently shaped vials in Dr. Kawara's office has caught his attention, and he was now pointing to them._

"_Oh, Isa!"_

_Dr. Kawara turns his head from the large stacks of documents that he had been trying to re-arrange, in attempts to find an article long since printed and stowed away – to no avail. He sets down the pile, and bounds over to Isa's side. Now, he has a vial in his hand._

"_These are stains, which we add to the cells so we can see them under the microscope. The colors are really nice! I can show you sometime… actually, let's do that now!"_

He tried not to think about those young, terrified and sunken eyes that had looked up at him. Half of Ryuuji Kawara… And the texture of those ribs, jutting out from above skin growing tauter at each visit. The emesis was interfering with the boy's nutritional status… perhaps the viral load, as well.

"_You know, Isa, the funny thing about science is that it can be used for good as much as bad. See this syringe? You can use it to inject a life-saving antibiotic. But you can then swap that antibiotic for a lethal compound, which can suffocate a man in seconds. How we use science is a choice. Our knowledge is power. And we must protect it from falling into the wrong hands."_

What he was doing now: was it right or wrong? Or perhaps, there was no such thing as right and wrong. Right and wrong were moral themes, and morality is a human trait. What he sought was nothing but the pure, distilled pursuit of science. The experiment simply _was_, in the same way that the universe simply _was_. No room for feeling, or questioning.

"_Sorry for being late. Again! Haha. Jeez, being a dad is so much harder than I thought – when Ryouta is sick, I just get so worried for him, y'know? And no fair leaving wifey to do all the hard work… Hey, Isa. Wait up – you run so fast... Isa… Isa? You're not upset at me, are you?"_

Ryouta. Half of Ryuuji Kawara. His specimen. The biological host, in which Shuu would carry out the fruits of his latter life's most significant work. And those innocent red eyes looking up, pleading to his friend, about the doctor: "I trust him!"

_You know, Isa… You'd make a great scientist someday. Haha – wait, scratch that – I mean, you're a great scientist already. What I really mean is – one day, all your work will pay off. And you'll make the world a better place for a lot of people. By that, I mean your work will save lives. That's what all great science struggles to do. That's where you're headed: I can just sense it. By then, Ryouta and I will both be in your debt! Haha! _

And finally, that scene forever pressed into Shuu's memory, repeated on loop in his dreams, even after he had long banished it from all conscious thought: a corpse lifted up from a hospital bed, wrapped in a sterile white bag, and wheeled to the autopsy room…

"_Promise me, Isa. Promise me that you'll take care of Ryouta."_

Shuu performed a mental checklist of his inventory, to ensure that everything had been placed back into order. These included the rest of the dissection specimen in the freezer, and the serums that needed to be kept refrigerated. There were also the vials stashed in the cabinet, full of medicines that he had distilled, and the viral particles which had been strained. And yet – what brought him such consistent gratification and calmness of mind suddenly seemed so petty, devoid of meaning. Tiredness, that damned biological need, must be impeding his thought process. Shuu laid his head upon the hard wood of the desk.

"_Isa! I demand that you go rest, right now. You've been working so hard, even in my absence. Don't worry about those samples – I'll process them for you. C'mon, Isa. Please… let me take care of you, this time."_

And then, the cold embrace of silence.


End file.
